


Canines 101:  Mutual Grooming Redux

by GigaCat



Series: Canines 101 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, M/M, Masturbation, canine behavior, kind-of-voyeurism, slightly underage?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GigaCat/pseuds/GigaCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/762712/">Canines 101:  Mutual Grooming.</a>  This can be read without it though.</p><p>Scott isn't the only one affected by the canine urge to mutually groom a pack member.  Everyone does it, except the dear Alpha.  </p><p>Stiles is just getting used to it, but then Derek finally gets in on the urge.  Just at an inopportune moment...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canines 101:  Mutual Grooming Redux

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was going to submit this for a challenge. Buuuut it went _way_ over the max word limit...

There's a first time for everything, Stiles knows that, but really, when it happens he's not very prepared for it. 

It starts with Scott. The mutual grooming thing, that is; Stiles has to do research on it after he kind of feels really weird having his BFF go wiping at his cheese dust coated face with a napkin. Turns out dogs, wolves included, mutually groom each other in packs to strengthen bonds, show affection, or help out a wounded pack mate; something about healing properties in dog saliva. Thankfully Scott hasn't tried to slobber on Stiles when he gets scraped up from the occasional supernatural tiff. 

So Stiles kind of relaxes about Scott occasionally going after him with a napkin or a licked finger like an annoyed parent cleaning up a toddler. It's not always food Scott gets huffy about either. Dirt smudges count too.

But when Derek starts calling pack meetings at his newly renovated house, an attempt to try and fix his rather shoddy pack and maybe start trying to _function_ like one, which includes having meals there, well. Stiles isn't prepared at all for all the _touchy-touchy_. Once everyone stops resisting these little get-togethers and starts actually acting like pack mates, Stiles is getting his face cleaned by practically anyone. Or whoever sits closest to him when eating, which typically is Scott, though on more than one occasion it's Erica who would typically sigh, as if put upon, and rather roughly swipe ketchup off his cheek. Sometimes with her finger. Kinda gross, that one. Then Boyd does it once when they are sitting at the counter eating cheese popcorn. Cheese dust gets everywhere, okay? Isaac is at least a little more shy about doing it. 

The only person that hasn't done it is Derek, but Stiles is kind of thankful for that because they have this kind of unspoken personal bubble going on amidst the lack of space with everyone else. 

Eric makes the sarcastic comment of it being _unresolved sexual tension_. She's hilarious like that. Really.

Stiles would still like to note he gets _stared at_ when it's just him and the mighty Alpha alone and well, he can in fact feel _something_ between them. It makes the air thick, like if he tries hard enough he could cut it with a knife or just a swift flail of his limbs. 

Derek doesn't groom Stiles. Stiles is decidedly _not _heartbroken about this, because why _would_ Derek groom him? Stiles isn't _pack_. He's just the token human that follows Scott, a cling-on, one of those remora fish that attaches to sharks. You get the idea. Derek and Stiles aren't pals. Which is fine. It's _so_ fine. __

__They're all at a pack meeting one afternoon and it's not one that involves food, it's just a hang-out kind of day. Werewolves are kind of rough when they get to playing around, wrestling and games of tag, which is kind of hilariously adorable to Stiles. He even gets in on it too, because he's also secretly five years old at heart. He acts like he doesn't know the others are slowing their speed down for tag, but he isn't spared from the occasional rugby-esque tackle._ _

__In the end, Stiles winds up filthy. Head to toe dirt and grass stains and not just on his clothes. He goes home that way after having a late lunch and notes his dad is at work still. So Stiles heads up to his room and drops onto his computer chair, sinking low. He’s seventeen years old, his body doesn't really need a reason for popping wood. It's a fact of life. All the adrenaline and happy, content feelings have gone to his dick and well, he's alone in his house. He can shower afterwards. He lifts his hips as he shoves his pants and underwear down just enough, wrapping a hand around his cock and relaxing back._ _

__So of _course_ that's when he hears the soft _clink_ of his window opening. _Seriously_? Stiles jolts and looks over expecting to see Scott, and subsequently hear a horrified yelp, but no. Derek fucking Hale invited himself through his window. Not for the first time, either. _ _

__They're both frozen, just staring with mixed expressions of mortification and shock. Derek is maybe even a little _poleaxed_. _ _

__Stiles' cock has yet to get the memo and his hand might not be moving, but it's still clutching. Then Stiles notes his red hoodie clutched in Derek's hand and _oh god_ , Derek's eyes flicker down and his lips thin, nostrils flaring. _ _

__Can lightning just hit him right now? Stiles doesn't want to live through it, even if it'd leave one of those awesomely gruesome arc marks._ _

__He wets his dry lips and ignores how Derek's gaze snaps to track the movement. "Uhh…" is all that comes out of Stiles. Witty. He's so fucking witty. Probably because most of his blood is still in his dick and not his brain. Which Stiles has not tried to shove back in his pants. Nope. He's still holding it._ _

__Derek recovers, apparently, but he's not leaving and looking like they should never speak of this again. No, instead he continues crawling through the window and drops the hoodie on the edge of the desk. "You left this."_ _

__"Thank… you…?" Stiles replies slowly, because the wiring in his brain has short-circuited apparently._ _

__There's more silence. Tense, excruciating silence. And staring. Why is Derek not leaving? Why is he not leaping out the window screaming that he's gone blind?_ _

__Finally Stiles' brain comes back online and he startles again, which startles Derek like some frightened animal, and he's hastily shoving his dick back in his pants and hoisting those up. " _Jesus Christ_ , dude! Are you-- Can you just—" He's having a hard time articulating still. His face heats up. Stiles can feel it crawl all the way down to his _chest_ and he flails again, back to being highly incensed. "Is it a werewolf thing where _nobody_ knocks first?" _ _

__Derek scowls again and Stiles is pretty sure there's a _growl_ with it. Before Stiles can open his mouth to spit out another barb, Derek lunges, grabbing him out of the computer chair by the front of his shirt. _ _

__Stiles would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't had a few masturbatory scenarios start this way. Including the part where he's shoved at his bed. Stiles bites out a yelp when he lands gracelessly on it, all swinging limbs before he's flattened by two hundred pounds of muscle._ _

__"Derek what— mmf!" Stiles' shirt has just been unceremoniously shoved up under his armpits and some hits his mouth._ _

__Derek looms above him and is back to staring, or maybe it's more akin to looking like he's seen a delicious slab of meat. There's _heat_ in those eyes and suddenly Stiles' mouth is drier than a desert. Derek splays a hot _sohot_ hand on Stiles' bare chest and drags his touch down, like he's mapping out every contour and bony groove of Stiles' lithe body. His gaze is counting out each mole and freckle. It's _really_ not helping Stiles' hard-on situation._ _

__"You're filthy." Derek's tone a little more thick than usual._ _

__Stiles swallows, throat clicking, and he squirms so his shirt slides down some. "Well, genius, I _did_ just get back from the pack play date. I was gonna get some fun _personal_ time in before showering but, well, you know the rest."_ _

__Derek's mouth twitches like it does when he's irritated, just once, and there's that growl again. Fucking resonates right down to the marrow in Stiles' _bones_ and pulls a subtle shiver from him. Derek's gaze snaps back up to meet Stiles' own. "Sounds like a plan you should get on."_ _

__Stiles blinks once, twice, thrice. Say what? "Are… Are you implying—"_ _

__" _Stiles_." Derek hooks the fingers of his right hand under the lip of Stiles' jeans, tugs. _ _

__Oh. _Oh_. "Oh my god." Stiles starts fumbling to get the fastenings to his pants undone and, with a little help from Derek, shoves them down with his underwear and out springs his cock again, having never really wilted. Stiles presses the balls of his feet to the floor some as he gets a hand on his dick and gives himself a slow tug._ _

__Derek leans in and presses the bridge of his nose against a pulse point in his neck and shamelessly inhales. Not that any of the pack have been particularly embarrassed about sniffing people. Derek's got one hand pressed to the mattress and the other simply rests on Stiles' sternum, probably feeling how hard his heart is jackhammering against his ribs._ _

__Stiles can barely hear around the blood rushing through his veins. He never imagined this happening. He _does_ think of Derek sometimes because, come on, Derek should be in _everyone's_ spank bank. He's built like a goddamn Greek god, all hard muscle and sharp cheekbones and perfect five o'clock shadow. Stiles isn't going to try and figure out what's happening here, he doesn't want to investigate it right now because he's pretty sure he's going to be disappointed with what he finds out; they're not even _friends_. He just knows that right now Derek Hale is _right above him_ while he jerks off, nose against his neck smelling all the hormones and pheromones and dirt and grime and sweat and tinges of anxiety—_ _

__Stiles shudders out a heavy breath when he rolls his palm over the head of his cock, smearing precome to help slick the way better. He grips himself tighter, doesn't try to draw this out, speeds up the pace with every stroke and pull. His hips twitch and rock of their own accord, fucking up into his hand all while Derek sniffs his neck and _growls_ and yeah, that's Derek’s thumb rubbing a tantalizing little circle against Stiles' breastbone. "Jesus _fuck_ , Derek…"_ _

__Derek lets out an even deeper noise, something rough and graveled, and _oh god_ there's slick hot wetness on his neck and that's _Derek's tongue_ tracing the pounding artery in Stiles' neck. _ _

__Stiles will deny that he _whimpers_ till the day he dies. Which might be really soon once this, whatever _this_ is, is done with. _ _

__It doesn't take much more. Not when Derek goes and _nips_ at a spot under Stiles' jaw. Stiles is _seventeen_ for crying out loud, and a goddamn _virgin_. Staying power is not his strongest suit here. _ _

__The muscles in Stiles’ abdomen tense as he curls in on himself and comes spectacularly with stuttered breath and an aborted, needy sound. Derek presses at his chest harder, as if to keep him pinned there._ _

__By the time Stiles is blinking away the stars in his vision, Derek has shifted down the bed and is – " _Holy fuck_ …!" – licking the _come_ right off his stomach. _ _

__Derek doesn't miss a single drop. He makes this weird noise that's kind of rumbling like an engine, kind of like _purring_ , but canines can't purr. Stiles is going to label it as one anyway. _ _

__Once Derek is done, pulling back and licking his lips clean with a flourish that’s not entirely human, he grabs Stiles off the bed. “Shower.”_ _

__Stiles' knees feel a lot like jelly right now. His pants are kind of around his thighs, so he staggers some but Derek hooks his waist so he doesn't fall. He catches sight of the bulge in Derek's own jeans, an impressive one at that. Stiles' mouth opens and closes and he is honest to god _floundering_ here, struggles to hoist his pants up enough to walk. He marches under Derek's direction to the bathroom. _ _

__He's still not sure when they're going to talk about _any_ of this, but Stiles discovers in the shower that yeah. Derek is totally grooming him here. It started with the whole licking-his-come thing. _ _

__Stiles really can't find it in himself to complain…_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my BB [thevoiceofwrath](http://thevoiceofwrath.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing so awesomely. Without her, my fics would be a mess. 
> 
> Find me at [Tumblr](http://gigacat.tumblr.com/). Be warned -- There will be pictures of men. And men's butts. And men's dangly bits. Often interacting with each other in fun ways.


End file.
